


Just Dandelion

by Whedonista93



Series: Spirit of the Season [5]
Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:35:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28143222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whedonista93/pseuds/Whedonista93
Summary: Ciri frowns at him, but deftly connects her phone to his truck, and within seconds, music fills the cab. The familiar lyrics are from the end of the song, and they’re painful enough, but it’s the voice that feels like a punch to the gut.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Spirit of the Season [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2039010
Comments: 13
Kudos: 149





	Just Dandelion

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This is more for schmoop purposes than trying to write them in character.

Geralt doesn’t think much of Ciri humming under her breath as they drive to Yen’s for the holidays. He’s not much for music himself - too many memories - but it keeps the demons from her early childhood at bay, so he doesn’t begrudge his daughter’s love of music. It barely even registers as background noise these days, but something about the tune she’s humming now catches his attention, and when he recognizes it, he almost drives off the road. He pulls off on the shoulder, trying to get his shaking hands under control. 

“Dad?” Ciri looks up at him, concern clear on her delicate features. “What’s wrong?”

“What’s that song?” Geralt asks, silently cursing when his voice shakes. 

“What?”

“That song,” Geralt repeats. “The one you were just humming.”

Ciri frowns at him, but deftly connects her phone to his truck, and within seconds, music fills the cab. The familiar lyrics are from the end of the song, and they’re painful enough, but it’s the voice that feels like a punch to the gut.

_Her current is pulling you closer_

_And charging the hot, humid night_

_The red sky at dawn is giving a warning, you fool_

_Better stay out of sight_

_I'm weak my love, and I am wanting_

_If this is the path I must trudge_

_I welcome my sentence_

_Give to you my penance_

_Garrotter, jury and judge_

Geralt closes his eyes. “Turn it off.”

The music immediately silences.

“Dad?”

Geralt forces himself to breathe. “Who-” Geralt clears his throat. “The song. Who?”

“I don’t know.”

Geralt opens his eyes and looks at his daughter.

Ciri shrugs helplessly. “I really don’t know, Dad. The only name his music is released under is Dandelion. He doesn’t perform live. No one has ever seen a picture of him. But he… you know how you and mom always tell me how careful we have to be? Because magic and monsters aren’t the same as they used to be? Because most people don’t believe it in it anymore?”

Geralt nods.

“Dandelion sings about it like he believes still.”

Geralt drops his head against his seat. “He does.”

“You know him?!” Ciri nearly screams.

“Fuck!” Geralt slams his hand against the steering wheel.

“Dad?”

Geralt takes a few deep breaths. “It’s complicated, Ciri. I can’t… I can’t talk about this now.”

He guides the truck back onto the highway, and the rest of the drive is spent in tense silence, Ciri frequently shooting worried glances his way.

Yennefer opens the door with a smile that’s reserved solely for Ciri.

Ciri bounds out of the truck to wrap her arms around her. “Hi, Mom!”

Yen drops a kiss to her hair. “Hello sweetheart. Is your father getting out of the truck?”

Ciri winces.

“Cirilla?” Yen’s voice holds a sharp edge.

“I think I broke him, Mom.”

Yen raises a perfectly shaped brow.

Ciri bites her lip and pulls her phone out. “I was humming and he recognized the song, I guess. He almost drove off the road.” She pulls up the song and hits play.

Yen’s fingers go slack, and her coffee mug crashes on the steps. “Oh, shit,” Yen curses. “Give me that.” She sends the track to her own phone, then pulls up Google. “Fucking… just ‘Dandelion’, really, you motherfuc-”

“Mom?”

Yen sighs. “Come on, sweetie. Let’s give Geralt a minute while I explain a few things.” She turns to the truck, and Ciri’s still open door. “You have thirty minutes to get your shit together. If you aren’t inside by then, I won’t find him for you.” She turns and follows Ciri into the kitchen before Geralt can answer.

“Mom, what’s going on? I’ve _never_ seen Dad like that.”

Yen makes herself a new cup of coffee, and Ciri a mug of cocoa, then takes her daughter’s hand and leads her into her office, where she pulls out a photo album.

Ciri flips it open curiously. The first page is Mom and Dad in formal attire, looking bored. The next is Mom and Dad, arm in arm with her biological parents and a brunet she doesn’t recognize. The brunet is in a lot of pictures, she realizes, as she flips through. Toward the back of the book is a two page spread that makes her freeze. A candid photo of Dad sharpening a dagger on a whetstone, the brunet’s feet in Dad’s lap and guitar in his own. Dad’s arms around the brunet, both of them seated atop Roach. The brunet’s head in Dad’s lap, a ukulele on his stomach. Dad actually smiling at the brunet as he plays a lute. Both of the asleep on a couch, the brunet sprawled across Dad. Dad kissing the brunet - the corner of his lips, barely visible, curled up in a soft smile - in front of a Christmas tree. Ciri blinks up at her Mom. 

Yen smiles sadly. “His name is Jaskier. They met the year before university. They were inseparable, even though it took Geralt a long time to admit how he felt… how much he loved him.”

Ciri snorts. “He still believed the line about Witcher’s not having emotions back then, didn’t he?”

Yen nods. “Right after graduation… we all took a job together. At the end of it… Geralt was upset, about some things, and he took it out on Jaskier. He said some horrible things, and Jaskier left.”

“Were they really that bad?” Ciri asks in a small voice.

“If I’d said them to your Mom,” Geralt says from the doorway, “she would’ve castrated me and thrown me off the mountain we were at the top of.”

Yen hums in agreement.

Ciri winces. “Why didn’t you apologize?”

Geralt sinks heavily into a chair across from them. “He beat me down the mountain. I couldn’t find him. Your parents’ accident happened a couple days later, and by the time the funeral was over…”

“We couldn't find him," Yen says.

Geralt stands and paces. "I should have kept looking, though. This is my fault. I’m…”

“A dick,” Yen supplies.

“Yen,” Geralt growls.

Yen shrugs unapologetically. “You were an asshole. And you deserved him leaving.”

Geralt sighs. “I know.”

Yen’s expression softens. “I never expected him to vanish like that, though. I figured you’d pull your head out of your ass and apologize and then… why is he putting this music out now? He had to know we’d find it eventually and come looking for him!”

Geralt shakes his head. “Think about what I said to him, Yen. He wouldn’t expect me to come looking.”

Yen winces.

“Can you find him?”

Yen tilts her head. “If I do, are you going to fix things?”

“I’m going to try.”

Yen nods. “Fine. You were always less of a grumpy dick with him around. And Ciri deserves someone to balance out your brooding when she’s with you.”

Geralt bites his lip against a retort, reminding himself that he needs her help.

Yen smirks knowingly, then shoos them to the kitchen, and makes her way to the basement. She comes back up an hour later, just as they’re setting dinner on the table.

Geralt looks up at her with so much hope in his eyes it almost hurts.

Yen waves her hand and opens a portal. “Go on, then.”

Geralt’s eyes go wide. “Now?”

“Not time like the present,” Yen quips. “Portal leads to an alley. He lives across the street.”

Geralt takes a deep breath.

“Oh, and Geralt?”

He turns to her.

“If you don’t fix this, I’ll castrate you and throw you off that mountain on principle.”

Geralt nods and steps through the portal.

“What do we do now?” Ciri asks.

“Pray for a Christmas miracle,” Yen tells her solemnly.

Geralt forgets Yen’s snide comment before the portal even vanishes behind him, because for the first time in more than a decade, he can sense Jaskier, can feel him, and the relief of it almost brings him to his knees. He forces himself across the street in a daze, and rings the doorbell before he can think better of it. The moment he hears the sound echoing on the other side of the door, reality seems to sink back in and terror seizes him. The door opens before he can do anything about it.

Jaskier stares at him, eyes wide and mouth open.

Geralt knows the silence will only last a moment, so he takes in Jaskier while he can. He’s wearing red Converse with white skinny jeans and a ridiculous Christmas sweater - red and green striped and covered in snowmen and snowflakes - and Geralt doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything more appealing.

“Geralt?” Jaskier’s voice is barely a whisper.

Geralt relishes the sound - and the fact that Jaskier hasn’t slammed the door in his face yet - shamelessly. “Jaskier.”

“What- how- I… what are you doing here?” His blue eyes are shining with tears and Geralt curses himself all over again.

He steps forward without thinking and cups Jaskier’s cheeks gently brushing the tears away with his thumbs. “Fuck! Please don’t cry.”

Jaskier’s hands come up to Geralt’s wrists, grip near desperate.

“I’m sorry,” Geralt says before he loses his nerve.

Jaskier blinks. “What?”

Geralt forces himself to meet Jaskier’s eyes. “I’m sorry, Jaskier. I am so, so sorry. I - gods, I was an ass. You… the thing I said. None of them were true, and I wanted to take them back again almost as soon as I said them, but you were already gone, and then we couldn’t find you and I, I…” Geralt drops to his knees, right there on Jaskier’s steps, and hangs his head. “I can’t keep doing this without you, Jaskier. I swear to the gods I’ll make it all up to you if you let me.”

After a long moment, Jaskier squats in front of Geralt, and lifts his chin, forcing their gazes to meet. “You really mean that.”

“Every word,” Geralt swears.

Jaskier… Jaskier fucking beams and launches himself right into Geralt. Geralt catches him, even as they stumble and roll down the steps. Geralt hits the sidewalk with a grunt, making sure Jaskier lands on top of him instead of on the concrete. 

Jaskier groans and blushes, dropping his head to Geralt’s chest. “That worked better in my head.”

Geralt tightens his grip around Jaskier’s waist. “Worked just fine. You’re in my arms again.”

Jaskier lifts his head and laughs delightedly. “Sap,” he accuses just before he kisses Geralt.

Geralt tightens his grip even further.

“Get a room!” Someone calls from a passing car.

“Fuck off!” Geralt shouts back.

Jaskier chuckles. “They’re not wrong, though. We are kind of, uh…”

Geralt rolls his eyes, but maneuvers himself to his feet, somehow managing to maintain his hold on Jaskier.

Jaskier wraps his legs around Geralt’s waist and winks cheekily. “Inside?”

Geralt groans and kisses him again. “As tempting as that is…”

“What?” Jaskier pouts.

Geralt reaches up and brushes a bit of hair away from Jaskier’s forehead. “Yen and Ciri are waiting for me to come back.”

Jaskier’s face falls. “Right. Of course.” He tries to untangle his legs.

Geralt holds him in place. “Jaskier, I didn’t mean I was going back without you.”

Jaskier’s face brightens again. “Oh.”

Geralt chuckles. “Pretty sure Yen’ll castrate me if I do come back alone.”

Jaskier gasps, dramatic and indignant. “Can’t have that! I have plans for that particular bit of you.”

Geralt can’t help but laugh. “Gods, I missed you.”

Jaskier buries his face in the crook of Geralt’s neck. “Missed you too.”

Geralt squeezes Jaskier lightly. “Need anything from inside?”

Jaskier nuzzles further into him. “Keys. And my lute’s just inside the door.”

Geralt mounts the steps and opens the door, picking up the lute case and swinging it over his shoulder before snagging the key ring off the entry table. It takes him a minute to find the right key to lock the door before he trots down the steps and across the street, Jaskier clinging to him - not wholly unlike a child - the whole time.

_Yen,_ he thinks as clearly as he can, _bring us home._

A portal opens a moment later, and he steps through it, back into Yen’s kitchen.

“Did you find him, Dad?” Ciri squeals excitedly. “You did!”

“Thank the gods,” Yen mutters.

As soon as he hears Ciri’s voice, Jaskier extricates himself from Geralt’s grip and drops to his feet, spinning on the teenager. “Gods! This can’t be little Ciri!”

Ciri tilts her head toward him curiously. “You know me?”

Jaskier smiles softly. “You were smaller than my lute last time I saw you, princess.”

Yen reaches over and brushes Ciri’s hair from her face. “Jaskier was with us and your parents at the hospital when you were born. If he wouldn’t have disappeared on us, he would have had as much of a hand in raising you as me and Geralt, after Calanthe died.”

Jaskier flinches guiltily. “Oh, gods. I’m so s-”

“Don’t you dare fucking apologize,” Geralt cuts him off.

Ciri nods solemnly. “It’s not your fault Dad was a jerk. And you’ll be here from now on, right?”

“Of course,” Jaskier promises.

“Told you, sweet girl,” Yen says softly. “Christmas miracle.”

Ciri makes them kiss in front of the Christmas tree, and frames the picture on their mantle, next to the pictures of them from college.


End file.
